Johnlock Oneshots (Requests are closed)

Tally Mark AU

My dear friend recommended this. ANGST. Enjoy.

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In this world, if you fell in love it would leave a mark. A red mark usually. Red meant that love was unrequited. A scar meant that the person had died. Black was if the person loved you back. John Watson had no marks. Many of his partners had marked to remember him by, but he never returned the love that they had for him. The tally marks were the source of pain for many people. Many wore watches or gloves to cover them. They tried to forget that the tally marks were the source of all there pain.

Johns POV

I had been living with Sherlock for two months. These two months had been the best part of my life. He helped get rid of my limp, get my dating game back, and really just give me a purpose. That only thing wrong was the sadness I saw flash across his face when he saw peoples wrists. While deducing he would glance down at peoples wrists and he would freeze. His eyes would fill with sadness and in a second his mask had slipped back on. On most peoples wrists there were tally marks. Red, black or scarred. I didn't have any. No women ever made me feel that way. Most kicked me out when their tally mark never turned black. I had never seen Sherlocks. He always wore long sleeves and I never asked. Today he was sitting at the table playing with dead animal carcasses. I loved the glint in his eyes when he got something he was interested in. He tended not to pay attention to me when he was like this. All the better, it meant I could stare at him for a long period of time and not get caught. A couple of hours later I walked upstairs to my room. I lay in my bed just thinking about the amazing man I lived with. That was until a sharp pain in my wrist woke me from my thoughts. I watched as a red mark appeared on my wrist. I gasped. Shit, this was bad. If he found out. Well, this was just wonderful, I had fallen in love with the only person who wouldn't love me back.

Two weeks later Sherlock and I walked to a restaurant we hadn't tried. It was called L'Angolo Bianco. I smiled at him as we walked and he smiled back. I felt a warm feeling on my wrist. It felt like fire and happiness. Unlike the last pain which was sadness, hate and sharp pain. When we got to the restaurant I excused myself and went into the bathroom. I looked at my wrist to see that the mark had turned black. Did he love me? I nearly shrieked like a schoolgirl. I took a deep breath and went to face him. When I walked back to the table he looked at me funny, tilting his head to the side and raising an eyebrow. I couldn't work up the courage to tell him. He would find out himself.

It had been three months of torture. Sherlock hadn't approached me and I was beginning to think that my mind was tricking me. I snapped out of my thoughts when Sherlock grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the ally we were in. "Come on he'll get away," he whispered.

We ran after the killer. He had murdered a child after raping her. I was disgusted by him. The entire yard was. Sherlock even showed his human side when the detailed of the case were told to him. We chased him down the road, finally cornering him in another ally where he pulled out a knife. He ran at Sherlock. He tried to aim for the heart but Sherlock dodged. The knife lodged in Sherlock's arm and he collapsed. I pinned the guy against the wall and handcuffed him. I bashed his head into the wall for good measure. The police arrived and we handed him off. I turned to Sherlock trying to help him. He flinched away from me. "I'll be fine john you can take care of me back at the flat," he hissed through his teeth.

I sighed and tried to call a taxi. I turned back to Sherlock to try and get him to call the taxi for me, but he was already walking in the direction of the flat. I ran after him sighing. "You're going to loose blood." I cried.

Ten minutes later we had finally reached the flat. I had ripped my jacket to make a makeshift bandage of Sherlock. I helped him up the stairs and pushed him through the living room and into the bathroom. "John I'm fine really." he protested.

I sat him down. "Don't move," I growled.

I ran up to my room and grabbed my first aid kit. I prayed that the knife hadn't hit any major arteries. I made my way back downstairs. Sherlock was right where I left him, thank god. I grabbed his arm to look at the damage, he flinched. "Sherl I'm gonna need you to take off your shirt," I said.

He moved reluctantly unbuttoning his shirt and I helped him pull it off his uninjured arm. I cut the sleeve of his injured arm. It was only then that I noticed the bandages already in place. They went from his wrists to right above his elbow. He looked down in shame. I slowly unraped the one from his uninjured arm. I gasped again when I saw it. His arm was littered with red marks and scars. I gulped and moved to his injured arm. I moved around the knife still lodged in his arm. More scares and red marks littered his arm. Then I saw it. The one right above where the knife had hit was black. My mark.

Sherlocks POV

My eyes filled with shame when he saw my arms. No one had ever loved me and no one would. Most died. They got to close to me. My thoughts were racing and I almost didn't notice John staring me right in the eye. "Hey, are you ok?" he asked.

I nodded. I looked at the bandage. He had done a good job. Then my eyes rested on the black mark on my arm. I gasped and looked at him. John smiled and he pulled his sleeve up. He had a black mark as well. My eyes filled with tears. "Y-you really?" my voice cut out.

He kept smiling and raised my chin up. His eyes met mine. I gasped when his lips met mine. He pulled away. "I love you," he said.

"I love you too," I replied smiling.

We kissed again. I had never been happier. Finally, someone who loved me. Maybe the tally marks weren't so cruel.

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